


The Phoenix Ascension

by Miss_Demeanor



Category: Hellsing
Genre: F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 08:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2725634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Demeanor/pseuds/Miss_Demeanor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An evasive group of vampire supremacists begin a reign of terror on the city of London and while Hellsing races to uncover their plot, Integra must also contend with long-lost relatives. /AlucardxIntegraxSeras, SerasxPip. OCs</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first serious foray into Multi-Chapter World. I'm using this as an opportunity to build my story-telling and character development skills to apply to my original works. Since I typically write short scenes, I hope this story will test me and force me to grow as a writer. As such any and all feedback you can contribute is much appreciated. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

The blessed silence which prevailed over the mansion at the dead of night was punctuated by the gong of a great clock, hailing in the three o'clock hour. Witching Hour, Integra thought wryly, eying the grand father clock from behind her desk. An unlit cigar hung loosely from her lips, and while her eyes ached for sleep her brain was wired.

Any moment now. Five nights in a row she'd been roused from sleep. Five. Surely tonight would follow suit. These were creatures of habit, after all, and she'd be damned if she was going to be caught unawares this time. She would stay awake all night if that's what it took, and the next night, and the next...  
But the familiar, measured footsteps approaching the door told her that wouldn't be necessary. She counted down the seconds and right on cue there was a swift knock on the aged oak.

"Come in, Walter."

Hellsing's retainer stepped in at the invitation and offered her a curt bow, "I apologize for the lateness of the hour, Sir. I'm afraid I have some bad news."

She saved him the trouble. "Don't tell me, there's been another attack," she withdrew a lighter from her breast pocket and flicked it to life, setting her cigar alight. "Where is it this time?"

"Tamarack Valley Forest Preserve in Cary, Sir," Walter's face darkened. "It seems a fifth grade class from Chelsea makes an annual camping trip and by the sound of things they chose the wrong week."

A school trip. Integra's jaw clenched in anger. The previous night it had been an orphanage, the night before that a rag-tag group of runaways, the night before that a childcare facility, and on and on. In all cases, children were involved; and most confounding, in every case all of the children had vanished. No bodies, no blood. It was like they were never there, as if Death himself had plucked them clean from the earth.

"The intelligence just came to us through a funneled recording of a female witness, assumably one of the chaperones, who tried phoning the police. She was hysterical at the time, so much of the recording is indecipherable, but she did describe the attackers as being 'dead-eyed mother-effing demons' before being cut off. Sounds like our sort of thing, Sir."

"Indeed," Integra blew out a cloud of smoke, before rising to her feet with further preamble. "Alucard!"  
The midian materialized almost instantly and Integra inwardly fumed at how positively jolly her servant seemed to be. Five nights of carnage, with a sixth one in the works- what she considered to be her personal hell was shaping up to be a right perfect week for him.

"What is it that you need, my Master?" he asked, all-too eagerly.

"Alert the Police Girl. You two are heading for Cary immediately. A fifth grade class trip has been attacked by our Unknown at Tamarack Valley. Proceed with the utmost care, our enemy is a slippery one who's somehow managed to evade us thus far. Do not fail me, Servant. I want his head on a silver platter."

Alucard's grin would have put Lewis Caroll's Cheshire Cat to shame. "It will be done as you wish, Sir Integra." And with that he disappeared.

* * *

 

"Do ya guys know the one about Bloody Fingers?" Samantha asked the group as the flashlight was passed to her. They all shook their heads, doe-eyes growing big. Samantha smiled. She loved having the flashlight because it meant for five minutes all her friends would pay attention to her. They had to, it was the rules. But boy, did she have a good one for them. She cleared her throat and began her story. "Once upon a time there there was a man who loved his daughter very much. She was the prettiest daughter you ever saw with big brown eyes and bouncy golden curls,"

"Did he buy her lots of presents?" Interrupted starry-eyed Louise.

"Er- yes," Samantha answered, peeved by the interruption. "She was very spoiled. But one day-"

"Did he ever buy her a pony? Daddies should always buy their daughters ponies," Louise blurted again, who had been doubting her own father's love since she had yet to be given a pony of her own.

"Yeah sure, he bought her a pony. Shut it, will ya and let me finish! I didn't talk through your stories," Samantha pouted. "Anyway, one day the daughter died from a rare disease and the funeral people took her away and buried her in the ground. 'Cause you know that's just what happens. But her father worried that his daughter would get lonely in the afterlife, so night after night he snuck into the graveyard and dug and hole with his bare hands so that his fingers bled. Once he was sure he had a deep enough hole he would go into town and look into every window of every house until he found the perfect playmate for his little girl. When he finally had chosen, very carefully he would unscrew the bolts of their windows and quietly would fall into their rooms and pluck them straight from their beds! He would then spirit them away back to the graveyard where he would drop them into the hole he had dug. It was only then that the kid woke up, but by that time it was too late. Handful by handful, Bloody Fingers would throw dirt on top of them while they screamed and screamed, until eventually he had them buried alive!"

There was a collective gasp from the group, and Samantha felt a swell of pride. Another flashlight flickered to life from the tent connected to theirs.

"I think that's enough ghost stories for tonight ladies," said an older voice, thick with sleep. "It's two in the morning- lights out, time for sleep."

The girls moaned in disappointment. "But miss Abby, I'm not finished yet," Samantha whined. That's when something hit the outside of their tent hard, making the girls shriek in terror.

"What's going on over there?" called Miss Abby, unzipping the door that separated their two tents. She found the girls scrambled together in a fearful pile as far away from the entrance as possible.

Louise pointed a finger at the door, "It's Bloody Fingers!" Again another hit- like someone throwing punches- racked the tent and the girls wailed.

"Shhh" Miss Abby tried calming them. "It's just the guys playing jokes. It's certainly not your Bloody Fingers. Knock it off, boys!"

"Go see!" one of them exclaimed.

"Yeah go and see, Miss Abby!" The others all frantically twittered their assent and it was decided that Miss Abby would fend off whatever was out there.

"Oh, alright," she sighed as her decision was made for her. "I'll show you there's nothing to be afraid of." Wielding a her flashlight, Miss Abby unzipped the entrance. She sucked in her breath as the chilly autumn air made the tiny hairs on her legs stand upright. Not for the first time, she was regretting taking this extra credit opportunity. She figured missing a whole week of school to go camping with kids as a part of her Peer Mediation project would be a breeze, but it wasn't all canoes and roasting marshmallows. The girls were nasty to each other and kept her awake all night with their gossiping. The boys were even nastier, but in a different way. Like, in a bodily functions sort of way.

She had come in contact with an alarming amount of poop in the last three days.

Hopefully there wouldn't be any poop involved in whatever prank these hooligans were pulling now. When she found them she fully intended to march them straight to Mr. Jenkin's tent and have him give them an ear full. But looking around she found no one. To her left she could see the embers of the dying fire, and beyond that a ways away were the boys' tents. Sure enough, from here she could see their door flaps hanging wide open. Oh but she'd get those bloody punks.

Then there was a rustle of fallen leaves from behind which made her jump, and she chided herself for letting the girls' silly ghost stories to get to her. There's no such thing as Bloody Fingers. She called to the girls, "everyone just hang tight. I'm gonna go check on the boys."

She crept towards the boy's tents, mindful with her bare feet to step lightly over the crunchy leaves and prickly grass. As she approached a nagging itch began at the back of her neck, sending a jolt of apprehension through her. Like an uncanny sixth sense, her neck only itched if something bad was about to happen. The first time she felt it was when she learned her father had died and now it happened whenever she so much as watched a horror movie.

Against her better judgement she ignored it, not wanting to seem a coward in front of the girls. But as she approached the tents and found them both to be exceptionally empty, a flicker of nervousness began settling in. But she didn't let herself jump to conclusions just yet. After all, It was entirely possible that all of the boys were in on it, even the older guys. Hell, Ryan and Brady might have even started it.

Then, a low, miserable moan came from somewhere nearby. Ryan? She shone her flashlight every which way, her neck itching something fierce. _I have a bad feeling about this_. She dashed towards the sound, determining it to be coming from somewhere in the trees behind the tents.

But she slid to a halt, breathless and petrified at what she saw. Not twenty feet away were two lumbering figures and from their mouths came the most stomach-churning gurgling noises she had ever heard. Miss Abby couldn't tell, but in the moonlight their skin looked sickly green and blotchy and peeled in places. A rank smell stung her nose, which could only be coming from them. Between the two zombie-like creatures was a tall very pale, very handsome man with auburn curls who grinned with a malicious sort of satisfaction down at a fourth person, who Miss Abby recognized as Ryan, whimpering in a pitiful heap on the ground. With a snap of his fingers the pale man ordered the two zombies to kill him, earning a choked sob from Ryan.

"Please no," the poor boy begged. "Mr. Jenkins please, snap out of it. Don't do this. Brady!"

Miss Abby covered her mouth to keep from screaming as she realized with sudden horror that the two monstrous creatures were in fact her classmate and the fifth grade teacher. Seemingly intent on following orders, what remained of Mr. Jenkins and Brady lumbered towards Ryan lifting his thrashing body off the ground. Then there was a moment right before their gnashing teeth sunk into his throat that Ryan caught sight of Miss Abby. Her heart seemed to stop as he looked at her with desperate eyes.

"ABIGAIL!" His scream was terrible. "ABIGAIL, HELP ME!"

The tall pale man snapped his head in her direction. A ghost of a smile pulled at his thin lips, revealing two elongated incisors sharp enough to slice through the very air. She gasped and tried stumbling back but instead she felt herself compelled to walk closer. Her feet began to move on their own and she stared helplessly as the man held out his arms to her invitingly. It was then that a piercing shriek from the girl's tents echoed through the forest. With her focus diverted, whatever freaky spell the monster had cast on her broke, and she took the opportunity to turn heel and sprint back towards her tent. A rippling laughter rang behind her. _Run, run, run as fast as you can_ the creature seemed to speak directly into her mind, and without further prompting Miss Abby picked up her pace, knees pumping like pistons.

She flew through the trees and nearly tripped twice before reaching her tent. Making quick work of the door, her heart leapt into her throat when she found the space empty. Her girls were no where to be seen. Her mouth went dry. "No," she breathed. Falling backwards out of the tent she recovered and began turning wildly.

"Samantha!" She shouted. No reply. Tearing open the door again revealed complete vacancy. "Louise! Becky!" she continued to scream. It was no use. They were all gone. She gripped her hair at it's roots and felt herself start to hyperventilate. This couldn't be happening. This was a bad dream.

_Gotta get out here._ Powered by adrenaline she bolted it towards the path without a second thought, head whipping around to make sure she wasn't being followed by those monsters. A canteen/supplies shop came into view as she rounded a corner. Thankfully, it was unlocked and she barreled through the doors, bolting them shut behind her. Spent and exhausted, she slumped against the door, grasping her chest as her lungs ballooned for air.

After a moment's rest she took in her surroundings. Heavy raincoats, hiking boots, sandals, swim suits, and all manner of outdoor wear for every imaginable weather condition made up the majority of the store. A glass case made up the front counter, inside of which was an assortment of Swiss army knives, lighters, and hand guns. Her spirits skyrocketed, however, when sitting beside the cash register she found a telephone. She rushed to it, fumbling with the receiver as she dialed the police.

"911, what's your emergency?" came a bored male voice after a few rings.

Abigail considered his question and found she had no adequate response. Finally, she decided on, "Zombies, sir." Her throat felt like sandpaper.

"I'm sorry?"

"I'monacampingtripwiththeKildarefifthgradeclassandwewerejustattackedbyzombiespleasesendhelp."

"Miss, I can't understand you. You'll have to speak slower. What's your location?"

"T-tamarak Valley. Christ-pleasejustsendeveryoneyouvegot -sorry, sorry. But right now I'm hiding from zombies in a convenience store and you must hurry!"

"Uhuh." It was the sound of a man who knew he was being had.

"All the kids are gone too, I don't know where the hell they went. God- I just hope they didnt get eaten. Just please, please send help. He could be back any minute."

"I'm sorry but who exactly is "he," Miss?"

"Some dead-eyed pale-faced mother fucking demon!" She screeched before the line went dead. Shit. A shadow moved across the moonlight shining through the window and she ducked to the ground. Her whole body tensed as the door knob jiggled from the outside.

"Come out, come out," a menacing sing-song voice came from beyond. Intuition told her if he really wanted to, he could get in no problem. He was playing with her, Abby realized. A nauseous feeling settled in.

She eyed the array of guns protected by their glass casing and made a decision that was going to get her thrown in jail, she just knew it. She shot to her feet and grasped the heavy cash register on either side. Clenching her jaw, she lifted, pivoted her body and- using her weight as extra leverage- threw it down with a mighty crash. Shards of glass flew like shooting stars across the room and she chose at that moment to remember with stark clarity that she wore no shoes. She picked up one of the hand guns, tentatively turning it in her hands. She had no idea how to operate one of these things. She couldn't even tell if the safety was on or-

She swore she barely even touched the trigger, but a shot fired without warning. It ricocheted off the wall, and she just barely ducked fast enough for it to soar over her head and smash through the window. Shakily, she held the volatile object as far away from her as possible is if it were some sort of wild animal that might bite her head off.

"Playing with guns, are we, my dear?" came the mocking voice from beyond the door. "How very progressive of you. Now be a sweet heart and unlock the door so we can put an end to this awful suspense, hmm?"

She set her jaw tightly and gripped the gun harder. On her way to the door she grabbed a pair of boots off a rack and fit them onto her bloodied feet. She took a shuddering breath, heart pounding in her ears, before throwing open the door. Giving a wild cry, she emptied the bullets straight into the calm face of the auburn-haired man and ran like the devil himself was after her.

She didn't get very far, however, before something tackled her to the ground. A sickening crack told her a rib had just broken. She winced as she was roughly thrown on her back, knocking the wind from her lungs. The dead weight settled on top of her, effectively pinning her in place. Her eyes widened in disbelief. The leering countenance of the auburn-haired man was as flawless as ever- with no sign a bullet had ever even grazed his porcelain skin. "How-?"

"It's so cute when humans try to kill vampires with mere guns," his voice held mock sympathy. "Especially when they're so desperate to stay alive. Ah- ah stop that squirming now. You're the lucky one, my dear. You're not going to die," He flicked out a pocket knife. An icy fear trickled down Abigail's spine and she began thrashing more violently. "The cleaning crew should be here soon enough and when they find you I need you to pass along a little message for me," he leaned her face close and hissed in her ear. "Tell that Hellsing bitch her days are numbered."

Exactly none of what he said made any sense, but she didn't have time to think too deeply on it because right as he finished was when the pain started.

* * *

 

"Look alive, Police Girl," Alucard yawned, motioning to three ghouls shuffling in slow circles out in the open. Without their vampire or anything to rip to shreds, ghouls were pretty much just smelly, skeletal imbeciles. This lot seemed especially dim-witted.

"Right, Sir!" Seras fired her canon, reducing all three to dust in a matter of seconds. How dull. They'd come all the way here, expecting a massive brawl with only three measly ghouls to show for it. It was enough to make Alucard sulk.

"Looks the same as all the others, Master," said Seras, pulling out a floppy-eared stuffed rabbit from a nearby tent. "All of the children are gone."

Before Alucard could congratulate his fledgling on her keen observational skills, an excruciating cry sounded from a distance, getting louder as it drew nearer. Both vampires perked up as the staggering form of what appeared to be a teenaged girl came hurtling towards them.

"HELP!" She screeched, voice hoarse."HE'S GAINING ON ME!" The young woman cannoned straight into Seras' arms. The young vampire stiffened in discomfort as the warmth of blood soaked through her uniform. "Wegottagetouttahere," -wheeze-"ThereszombieshereIknowthatsoundscrazy," -cough-pant- "andtheresahomicidallunaticafterme."

"Shhh, it's alright now. They're gone," A nonplussed Seras tried her best to console her, smoothing the hysterical girl's hair. She was trying very hard not to breathe in the smell of her blood. "They're all dead now." Although she couldn't speak to this homicidal lunatic, which she could only assume was their vampire quarry.

The young girl nodded frantically, eyes glazing over. "Good," she became breathy and quiet. "...good." And then she went limp in Seras' arms, eyes rolling back in her head. Seras shot an imploring look to her Master who was completely ignoring the scene and instead looking to the direction she came running from.

"Whatever was after her seems to have lost interest," he mused.

"Sir, I think we have a more immediate issue here," said Seras.

"That's not like any vampire I've ever met-"

"Sir, I think she's going into shock-"

"-Especially with all that blood. Vampires aren't known to leave unfinished business."

Shaking her head at her master's apathy, Seras lay the girl down and lifted the blood-soaked shirt to assess the damage. "Uh- master?""

Finally, at the sound of his fledgling's perplexed tone, Alucard deigned to look at the young woman. _Ah, what have we here?_ Across the girl's abdomen there were words shoddily carved into her flesh. From ash we rise. Luckily, for her the gashes were shallow enough, but they bled profusely. "Integra will be most intrigued."

"Sorry, Sir, but what do we do with her?"

Alucard's answer was automatic. "We follow procedure. Hellsing's infirmary will fix her up, analyze her blood to make sure she isn't carrying a dormant strain of the ghoul virus. They'll log her into the archives, I'll wipe her memory and she'll be sent her on her merry way." All pretty standard.

He picked up the gun she had dropped and examined it. They didn't come across very many survivors. All things considered, the girl had gotten off easy.

"Any news Walter?" Integra asked, eyes bloodshot. She hadn't been able to sleep after dispatching Alucard and Seras the night before, praying for news. Well, ask and ye shall receive. Her servants returned to her with their most valuable clue yet: a message. Though the words meant precious little, she allowed herself a moment's celebration. At least now they had something to go on. And the girl on which this message was carved had survived! Integra could've turned cartwheels down the hall, she was so ecstatic.

"Indeed Sir. There's been a development with the survivor," came Walter's response, but there was something odd in his voice.

"Is she infected?" Integra asked tiredly. She could feel her breakthrough slipping through her fingers.

"No, but this morning I went to log her into our records and I noticed something rather strange."

'Go on," Integra prompted.

"Well, our people identified her as one Abigail Wilson, but upon logging her DNA scan, our computer systems already seemed to have her on file," Walter's lip twitched. "Only under a slightly different name."

Integra straightened, "And what name would that be?"

"You might want to have a look for yourself, Sir," Walter handed her the girl's file. "Though I must warn you, it may come as a bit of a shock."

Integra's eyes narrowed as her stomach churned with anticipation. It was unlike Walter to beat around the bush, meaning whatever was in this file alarmed him. And it took a hell of a lot to alarm the retired Angel of Death. A brief flash of precognition told her that she did not want to know what was inside, but she opened the file regardless and began scanning the first page. Her mouth grew thinner and thinner as her eyes moved down the page. A few minutes passed before she finished, closing the file and throwing it on the desk in front of her. It was a long time before she could speak.

"How sure are you that these are the same people?" She asked dubiously.

"There's no doubt it's a 100% DNA match, Sir. The first sample was processed when she was just a toddler. Soon after, the girl and her mother had already moved to Chelsea and were no longer affiliated with Hellsing. That would explain why her file was never updated."

Integra nodded, her head swimming. She took a composing breath. "Well, no need to postpone the inevitable Round Table meeting. No doubt they'll have a thing or two to say."

"I'll make the phone calls, Sir," Walter bowed before turning to leave.

"And Walter-"

The butler paused.

"Do let me know the instant Little Miss Sunshine wakes up. I would like a word."

"I'm sure you two have much to discuss, Sir," Walter quipped dryly and exited down the hall.

_What next?_ Integra thought, brain completely fried. First a wild string of vampire attacks with dozens of missing children, and now this? Would God never give her a moment's rest? She opened the file once more and placed two pages side by side and tried once more to wrap her head around what she was seeing. That _this_ particular girl should turn up in the midst of a crisis and find herself the lone survivor of a vampire attack only to be returned safely to the mansion was altogether hopelessly ironic. What were the odds? Astronomical, she decided as she studied the two profiles. The first had been written up by Walter this morning. It displayed a photo of a brunette teenager, out cold in one of their hospital beds. The photo had been taken by an orderly upon request. At the top "Abigail Wilson" was written in bold letters. On the second page, the edges beginning to yellow with time and the ink starting to fade, was a smiling, toothless toddler with barrettes in her hair. The name emblazoned on this one seemed to reach across the very fabric of time and slap her fully across the face: Abigail Maxine _Hellsing._ Daughter of her late dear- old uncle Richard. It seemed even from his grave he had managed to throw her a curve ball by bestowing upon her at the worst possible of times...

_A cousin._


	2. Kamikaze

CHAPTER TWO:

Kamikaze

From behind the the one-view window of the hospital wing, Integra watched with a hollow fascination as the Abigail girl waved away the food and water being offered to her despite the incessant encouragement of the medical staff.

Seeing her in the flesh, Integra racked her brain trying to come up with some sort of memory of the girl. Surely, if she were indeed her cousin the elder Hellsing must have seen her at some point around the mansion in her childhood. She conjured the briefest flashes of memory: a pitter patter of little feet down the hallway whilst she studied, a glimpse of chestnut curls disappearing behind a door, but Integra couldn't tell if these were real or fabrications of her own making. But by the way Abigail's deep-set eyes clouded with worry and shameless suspicion as the nurses adjusted her IV as if she expected them to slip her poison, there could be no doubt of her heritage. She had eyes just like her father. Integra laughed humorlessly to herself.

"Is she ready to be wiped clean?" The immaterial baritone her servant's voice rumbled somewhere in the shadows.

Without turning her gaze, "I don't think the girl is going anywhere any time soon."

"Oh?"

Unable to see him, she shot a sidelong glance in the general direction of his voice. "The plot ever thickens, it seems. Alucard, you are looking at the daughter of one Richard Hellsing. You remember him, don't you?" She said snidely.

Silence. Then,

"...You have got to be joking."

He materialized beside her, face all but pressed to the glass. He snarled, "Wretched filth. She can't be anything else, with the father she had."

Integra shrugged, "Perhaps, perhaps not. Regardless she is the only lead we've got on these serial attacks, and she and I shall speak at length on the matter. In the meantime, however, I have a council of eleven very agitated knights waiting for me in the conference room." With one final lingering gaze she turned away from the window and started down the hall. She spoke over her shoulder. "And I would feel better if you retired to the lower levels for the remainder of the evening."

"Don't trust me with Richard's offspring, Master?" Alucard's voice all-but dripped with sarcasm. "Whatever do you think I would do?"

"Lord only knows," Integra rolled her eyes. "But I don't want you getting any funny ideas, so best to just remove the temptation. One traumatizing encounter for the poor girl is quite enough for one day."

* * *

 

"Am I the only one who thinks this Abigail Wilson, er- Hellsing-whoever the hell she is!- should be the least of our concerns?" Sir Penwood exclaimed after Integra presented the current state of affairs. " Sir Integra, if I am understanding you correctly, there have been six consecutive vampire attacks resulting in the abduction of dozens of children and this is the first any of us are hearing about this?! Explain yourself!"

Integra's eyes narrowed over steepled fingers, "I did not want to stir a panic." The fact that the least amount she had to deal with the other council members the better also played a minor role. The Convention of Twelve certainly had it's uses, but when it came to matters of the supernatural the men simply did not understand what it was she dealt with and Integra found it best to keep all incidents as contained as possible. "At first, I mistakenly thought these were isolated incidents. But by their repetition and the specificity of the attacks I can only assume there's a larger design at play. Vampires don't behave like human serial killers; they do not typically choose their victims so discriminately and they certainly do not leave survivors. This particular vampire has proven to do both. What is more," Integra withdrew a photo and held it up for all to see. The men's faces grew grave at the sight of Abigail's shredded abdomen. "The monster has left us a message engraved into the body of the one human he chose to keep alive."

"'From the ashes we rise'? What kind of devilry-?" Sir Penwood hissed.

Integra handed the photo the Knight on her right to be passed around. "It could be a cryptic threat or it might even refer to the "re-birthing" process of becoming a vampire , but this is only speculation as I have yet to speak to Abigail directly. Either way, the whole situation reeks of premeditation."

* * *

 

The doctors had left Abigail alone some hours ago after they'd finished patching her up. The nurses would pop in every so often to check her bandages or to administer more painkiller, but for the most part they gave her a wide berth. Thanks to the digital clock on the wall opposite her, she did the math and figured she'd been there a grand total of twelve hours and in that time not one of her questions had been answered. So far whenever she asked what happened to her, where she was, why she couldn't phone her mother, or who in God's name was wealthy enough to have a fully staffed hospital wing added to their house the orderlies just kept their lips tight shut. Now Abigail was left to stare blankly at the ceiling, counting and recounting the number of tiles, as a means to quell her growing anxiety.

The swish of the double doors made her turn her head and much to Abigail's surprise a vaguely familiar young blonde woman entered the sterility of the hospital chamber. In her hands she held a lovely blossoming pot of flowers.

"Hey- I know you!" Abigail called, relieved that she recognized someone in this strange place. "Aren't you the girl from last night?"

The girl smiled sweetly and gave a little laugh, "I am. Master told me I should come pay you a visit, since he can't for some reason. My name's Seras Victoria by way. Can I put these here?"

"Uh- sure, go for it." Abigail blinked confusedly as Seras placed the flower pot on the shelving unit bedside the hospital bed.

"There now, that really freshens the place a bit. Don't you think?" Seras beamed, admiring her work.

"Thank you."

"They're geraniums. Supposed to have healing properties, at least according to the pamphlet."

"No-I mean yes, thank you they're very beautiful- but for last night. You kind of saved my life."

Seras pulled up a rolling chair beside her bed, "Well, we couldn't just leave you there could we?"

Using the handheld remote control Abigail raised her bed to a sitting position to make their conversation easier. "Yeah, about this "we". Who exactly is that?"

"My master and I." She said simply.

Abigail wasn't sure how she felt about that. "Master?" Just what kind of madhouse was she in?

"Well it sounds funny when you say it."

"Just a little," There was no image Abigail could bring to mind of this second person, but then again her memory of last night was starting to blur and run like a watercolor painting left out in the rain. "But how did we escape? And what happened to the zombies? An-and the...vampire?" Saying the words aloud made the whole incident seem highly absurd and surreal. Like she was describing some sort of Stephen King meets Salvador Dali mash-up.

"We killed them. Well except for your vampire friend, but he's been a slippery one so far. Don't worry we'll get him soon enough," Seras gave a happy-go-lucky wink. Abigail felt uncomfortable with how cheery she was on the matter.

"So...this is something you do? Like, frequently?" Abigail ventured.

"Of course, it's my job!" Seras chirped.

"To slay vampires? Like Buffy?"

"Kinda like it!"

"Oh."

"But don't worry, Hellsing is going to take good care of you. It's not every day we get to look after surviv- oh, sweetie, are you okay?"

All color had drained from Abigail's face, leaving her white as a sheet. "Hellsing?" she breathed. "You're saying I'm in Hellsing?"

Seras blinked in confusion. "Well yes, but-"

"I can't stay here," Abigail threw the blankets off herself and made to stand up but was reminded of her couple dozen stitches and broken rib and winced painfully. Seras jumped to her feet in alarm and eased the girl back down.

"Please, Miss, you're not yet well."

A pair of desperate eyes implored her, "Are you going to kill me?"

"Wha-?" said Seras, dumbfounded. "Don't be silly we're trying to help you! Why would we try to kill you?"

Abigail blanched. "You killed my father..."

And with that sudden turn of the conversation, Seras got the feeling she was suddenly very much out of her depth. Luckily, she was spared from having to say anything because it was at that moment the emergency lock-down sirens began wailing.

* * *

 

Privates Boscoe and Heathrow were not having the most exciting of nights. Guard duty, while by far the safest shift one can hope for when working with Hellsing, was mind-numbingly boring. If given the choice, they would much rather be on the front lines blasting the heads clean off of ghouls alongside their comrades, but fieldwork was reserved for officers with much more experience. So until they were able to move up in the ranks, they would be stuck as little more than guard dogs.

Tonight, they found themselves stationed at the gates of Hellsing manor. If anyone asked Private Boscoe, he'd say it was a completely useless job. The mansion was so far removed from the city, it was basically the middle of nowhere. Nobody ever came that wasn't supposed to. A scarecrow could probably do just as good a job. But nobody ever asked Boscoe, so he kept these thoughts to himself.

A sound like a strangled animal made Boscoe look to his partner and he found Heathrow fast asleep standing with just his head propped against the wrought iron of the gate. A thin dribble of drool slid down his chin and the dying animal sound turned out to be obnoxious snores. Boscoe rolled his eyes.

Then something appeared in the nighttime mist, Boscoe had to strain to make it out but after a moment he was certain he could see the silhouette of a figure drawing closer.

"Heathrow," Boscoe hissed at his partner. "Wake up you idiot, there's someone coming."

Heathrow awoke with a jolt, "Huh- I'm sorry what?" Boscoe jutted his chin and indicated down the long drive and Heathrow saw there could be no mistaking the approach of somebody on foot. The both straightened to attention.

Finally, the figure came close enough to be seen in full and both soldiers stared with mouths agape at a lone little girl- no more than five or six- with straight blonde hair and the biggest brown eyes either of them had ever seen. She stopped dead in her tracks not five feet away and stared curiously up at them.

"What are you doing here? These grounds are off limits," Heathrow snapped.

Boscoe shot his partner a dirty look, "Relax Heathrow, she's just a kid. Probably lost, is all." He knelt down to the girl's level and grinned. "Is that it, darlin? Didja just lose your mummy?"

"Mummy?" her clear voice rang like little bells and she cocked her head inquisitively.

Boscoe turned back to his partner, "See? Now sweetheart we're gonna help you find your family okay? You just hang tight you'll be home in no- AHH!" Boscoe screamed in pain as the little girl suddenly grabbed a hold of his head and plunged sharpened teeth straight into his throat.

Heathrow was so stunned he fumbled with his weapon before raising it to the little girl's head, but he didn't have time to fire. The little girl's hand shot out and grabbed hold of the barrel and with impressive strength bent it at a 90 degree angle upwards. Shaking, Heathrow dropped the gun and watched as the girl sucked Boscoe dry and let the man fall lifelessly to the ground.

He had no time to call for back up over his walkie before with inhuman speed she was in front of him and he found himself helplessly trapped, drowning in the never-ending pools of red her eyes had become. _You're going to let us in._ Her voice echoed in his head. _You're going to open the gates and then I'm going to kill you._

Try and he might, poor Heathrow found himself unable to stop his fingers from dialing the entrance code on the keypad beside the entrance. She smiled, the perfect visage of innocent. _Thank you._ Behind her, two grown men approached them. One of them with long streaming blonde hair stooped to her level and said, "You've done well Diana. Finish him off and join us when you are done."

They were the last words Heathrow would ever hear.

* * *

 

The lights flickered on and off, causing a ripple of trepidation around the table of Knights. Integra's eyes narrowed. What now? She prayed it was something as simple as an electrical failure. Hah, she should be so lucky. The phone sitting in front of her chimed and across the little screen "alert" flashed bright red. She answered.

"What happened? Report."

She was met with the frantic cry of one of her soldiers. "We're under attack! All outside communication has been cut off. We're ready to engage at your order Sir."

"What! Why haven't you already exchanged fire?" Integra yelled.

"Our enemy, Sir, they are vampires but they are just children!"

Integra sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. The children! Fury rose in the pit of her stomach. An army of vampire children. God damnit...She was starkly aware of the eyes of her fellow Knights, all waiting for her to make a decision. What could she do? She had to do her job. Her face remained stoic, not revealing any of the remorse she felt.

"Hold the line and unleash fire," she said at last. She was ordering the execution of innocent children! No, not innocent. She firmly reminded herself. Not anymore. "Bide as much time as you can."

"Yes Sir- ah-argh!" The soldier's grave voice gave way to shouts and the sound of fireing bullets.

Integra sat utterly confounded for a moment, before regarding the faces of the terrified men sitting around her. She could hardly believe it was possible for her fortune to be so bad.

"We need to bide time!" The Knight to her left exclaimed.

"First priority should be our evacuation," asserted another, trying to take charge of the situation. He looked to Integra. "Secure a path to the heliport!" There was a crash from somewhere many floors up, causing dust to fall from the ceiling. "What was that?!"

"I'm afraid it was the heliport, Sir." Came the soldiers voice from over the speaker. The knights gasped hopelessly.

"Sir Intgera we can't hold this position for much longer. They're too small and too fast for our bullets. We're being overrun! Argh-urg-!" The officer's words gave way to tortured shrieks. But soon another voice was replaced by it.

"Hello? Is this thing on? Cool!" It was youthful, petulant voice. "This message is going out to the round table conference and a very personal and heartfelt shout out to the queen bitch herself Miss Hellsing! We'll be getting intimate as soon as me and the little twerplings finish lunch. Let me be the first to thank you for providing us all with these tasty snacks! By tomorrow Hellsing will be nothing more than a pile of shit."

A rage like she had never known gripped Integra and she crushed her cigar between her fingers.

* * *

 

"What's going on!" Abigail shouted over the screaming alarms.

"I think it means we're under attack." Seras ventured. Then again, she was still new around Hellsing, so she couldn't know for sure.

"What! By who?!"

Seras shrugged and reached across her mental connection with Alucard. _Master, what's happened?_

_Ah, Police Girl. How's Sugar-and-Spice doing?_

_Master, do you even hear the sirens?!_

_Hmm, slight annoyance. It would probably be best if you rendezvous with Walter. He'll be needing your help._

_Sir, what about Abigail?_

Silence.

Seras sighed, wishing for once her Master could be just a little more helpful. She opened her eyes and noticed Abigail staring at her like she was crazy.

The draculina smiled back sheepishly. "How do you feel about a little field trip?"

* * *

 

"What do you plan to do about this, Integra!" One of the Knights shouted.

What indeed. Thankfully, a call came in from Walter. She took it, "What's your position Walter?"

Her butler's voice, calm as could be, came through. "The sub-basement. I've already been brought up to speed on the situation. Outside communications have been cut off so I wouldn't expect reinforcements for at least another few hours. In the mean time our current forces are prepared to defend the conference room with their lives."

"What do you recommend?" Integra asked, thankful she had such a seasoned war strategist in her ranks.

"Well for starters, please fortify the door to the conference room. Since Alucard and I are in the subbasement with Miss Victoria arriving shortly with Abigail in tow, I propose we divide into two teams. Alucard will head upstairs. And when Miss Victoria and Abigail arrive, she and I will make our way to the conference room."

"How will you manage? The hallways are full of vampires."

"How did you manage to find Alucard's cell ten years ago?"

* * *

 

"Um-I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this," said Abigail a little shakily from on top of Seras' shoulders.

"I'm not sure you have much of a choice, Miss." The old man- Walter, he said his name was- called to her from inside the air-duct a few feet overhead. "Now extend your arms, if you will. I'll pull you up."

There were probably better ways to get a hospitalized girl into a dusty air-duct twelve feet above the ground, but this was all they had time for. The blood-curdling cries of men could already be heard echoing from down their hall. Very apprehensively Abigail raised her arms and grasped Walter's outstretched hands, wondering how on earth such an old man would have the strength to-

"Ow- OW!" Abigail cried as he suddenly hauled her up. Once she was safely inside the cobwebbed air-duct Walter quickly appraised her injuries to make sure none of her stitches hadn't come apart. Then he called down to Seras,

"Alright, Miss Victoria, if you would be so kind."

"Right Walter!"

And with unreal agility Seras leapt straight from the ground and landed safely beside them with ease. Abigail gawked at her, "How did you do that?" Seras only shrugged. Abigail felt light headed.

"Alright ladies, I suggest we move as quickly possible." Walter intoned and began crawling down the tunnel.

Abigail tried to crawl after him but hissed in pain. Both the Butler and Seras stopped to look at her. She gave them apologetic look, "My rib isn't healed yet. I don't think I can make it."

"Time is of the essence, my dear. We can't afford to be hampered down by something as trivial as pain." While Walter pitied her, as a soldier who had contracted significantly worse injuries on the battlefield and had still managed to pull through, he didn't feel that bad. "Pain is just a message to the brain. You can choose to ignore it."

It was not what Abigail wanted to hear, but it was either do or die so she nodded weakly and decided to suck it up.

* * *

 

The tall blonde man, and second Valentine Brother, quietly slipped away from the carnage in the hallways and began his pursuit for their true reason in coming here tonight. It wasn't difficult; the dark aura of his quarry was almost magnetic in it's strength. All he had to do was follow it. An excitement swelled in his chest that was hardly containable, but he pushed it down knowing full well he had to be at his most cool and collected for this encounter. After all, he wanted to make a good first impression.

His search led him to a locked door in the lower levels of the building. No matter. With ease he was able to crash through it, leaving nothing but splinters in his wake. Inside was a dark, cold chamber. The potency of the aura was so strong here, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright.

"I know you're in here," he called after a moment, stepping over the threshold. "Even when you're hiding I can feel your presence."

Then somewhere in the darkness, "Why on earth would I hide? Don't mistake my patience for cowardice. Honestly I was starting to get a bit bored waiting for you."

A flicker of fear gave the blonde man a moment's pause, but he fought it down and walked calmly towards the voice. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Alucard." He gave a respectful bow. My name is Luke Valentine. I'm a really big fan of your work." He meant it with every ounce of his being.

"Indeed?" Alucard's deep rumble dripped with amusement.

"Quite. They tell stories of your amazing strength. How you glide through oceans of blood. A monster whose power radiates with a darkness that casts a shadow on darkness itself. Truly the immensity of your power comes only second behind that of my own Master."

"Is there a point to this, or did you really come all the way here to wax lyrical?"

"I have a proposition for you. And that adorable little fledgling of yours, if she should want." The corner of Luke's mouth stretched into a smirk. "It must get tedious, working for humans. Caged like a lowly dog. Whatever reason you may have for serving your human Master, you certainly cannot deny that it's far beneath someone of your caliber. Or any vampire for that matter. After all, we are the superior species."

"You're beginning to grate on my last nerve," Alucard growled from his chair. "Speak quickly if you know what's good for you."

"Come with us. My brother and I will take you both to our Master and you can be on the winning side of history."

"And who this "all-powerful" Master, exactly?" Alucard asked, curiosity sufficiently piqued.

"You know him rather well, I should think. He's a true vampire, much like yourself. Only stronger."

A dark chuckle began in the base of Alucard's throat and rippled into a maniacal laughter. A moment later he unsheathed his gun from his coat and fired it straight into Luke's head. At the last split second, however, the intruder managed to dodge it. He stood mere centimeters out of the line of fire.  
"Impressive," Alucard complimented. "Your reflexes are amazing."

"I told you, my Master is more powerful than you are. I am nothing like the lowly bottom feeders you are used to. But I didn't come here looking for a fight."

"Could have fooled me," Alucard scoffed. "But my fledgling and I aren't in the market for new allegiances. We're quite comfortable here, thank you."

Luke looked incredulous, "How can you even say that!" He shouted. "You're nothing but a slave here. Come with us and you could the king of a new world!"

Alucard gritted his teeth. Enough was enough. He would finish this scumbag off quickly.

* * *

 

Out of all of the Knights, Sir Penwood was having the most difficult time coping. Integra had long since given up on trying to reassure the sniveling man. But just as it seemed he was on the brink of a mental breakdown, there was rustling from overhead that stole everyone's attention. All at once, one of the tiles came loose and was replaced with what appeared to be, if Integra was not mistaken, the yellow-clad backside of her newest vampire servant. Sure enough, after a moment's struggle the draculina fell through the tight squeeze, arms wrapped tightly around a very distressed-looking Abigail Hellsing. The two girls yelped as they came crashing straight on Sir Penwood's head, knocking him to the floor. Walter followed suit, albeit entirely more gracefully.

"Are you alright, Miss Victoria- Miss Abigail?"

Abigail's mouth hung open as she found herself in a heap on the floor of a fancy conference room, the object of at least a dozen people's attention, in nothing more than a hospital gown. She flushed crimson. What more would she be expected to deal with today?!  
The entire room stared, quite perplexed. Sir Islands was the first to speak, "So this is the long-lost Hellsing, is she?"

"What? No- my name is Abigail Wilson. I haven't been a Hellsing since you lot killed my father!"

"Now wait just a minute-" Walter began.

"Sir Integra I think you have some explaining to do-"

"THERE ARE BIGGER THINGS!" bellowed Sir Penwood. "WE ARE ABOUT TO GET EATEN! DON"T YOU PEOPLE GET IT?!"

Integra lit a cigar, feeling much more confident now that two of her best agents were safely at hand. "Quite right, Sir Penwood. Abigail you and I have much to discuss, but now is not the time. For now, just make yourself comfortable. Walter, take us through it."

"The plan is as follows, Sir Integra, Alucard will intercept our attackers in the sub-levels. Seras and I will clear this floor. I promise that not one of these villains will see the light of day again."

It could have been the trick of the light, but Abigail could have sworn she saw something as fine as hair glint at Walter's finger tips. Her neck started itching and by the way he was talking, she knew that whatever was out there was not going to survive for very much longer.

* * *

 

Jan Valentine was just beside himself with glee. Becoming a vampire was the best thing to ever happen to him, and he owed it all to his Master. There was no place he'd rather be than storming these halls, watching the little tykes rip apart these filthy human scum to shreds, all in the name of the grander plan.

"Little Hellsing chicky," he sang as he marched with his band of vamp kids toward the conference room. "We're coming to find you. Come on out an' play little Hellsing! I promise it's gonna be a lot of fuuun. We just wanna torture you, kill you maybe skull-fuck your corpse a couple of times, burn the house to the ground and go home and masturbate, okaaaay?"

His little diatribe was cut off when one of the doors opened up revealing an old geezer. Quick as a flash, the old man flicked his wrists and as if by some sort of witchcraft several of the young vampires around him split in two.

"Oh dear," came the prim and proper voice of the old man. "I guess I'm not as spry as I used to be."

Jan growled, "Get him, you little brats!" And with a snap of his fingers a legion of child vampires sprang forward at beak-neck speed, eyes burning red and teeth gnashing.

"Miss Victoria, now would be a good time for support."

Seras hesitated behind her weapon, "But Walter, they're just children!"

"Not anymore, Miss Victoria. Now fire!"

It was with a heavy heart that Seras pulled the trigger, taking out a whole row of them with one shot. Quickly, she reloaded and fired a second volley, aiming this time straight down the middle.

"Oh, fuck you!" Screeched Jan Valentine as the canon rocketed towards him. While the shot managed to take out the remainder of the diminutive demons, with astounding reflexes Jan managed to jump out of the way. With a crazed laugh he careened towards Walter and with melodramatic gusto cried, "DIEEE!"

He had no time to deliver his final blow before Seras deftly disarmed him and tackled him in a death grip to the ground. "I've got him Walter! Are you alright?"

"I think I'm starting to feel my age," said Walter as he approached them. "But I think it's high time we got some answers. What was the objective of this attack? Who are you taking orders from?"

Jan smirked wickedly, "wouldn't you just like to fuckin' know. We got you bitches spinnin' so fast you're chasin' your own tails. Betcha the twerplings were a bit of shock, huh? Well there's more where that came from. AWRGHH-"

Walter crushed on of the impudent vampire's fingers beneth a his foot, "Young man, the left one's next."

"We were following orders, alright! Our Master was very clear: attack the Hellsing headquarters and kill everyone we found inside. We were supposed to confirm the deaths of the round table and as an extra special bonus bring in the big kahuna himself and his little slutty plaything," he leered at Seras.

"Ah, so you're not the only one in charge here," Walter muttered. "Who else?"

"Wow, you're quick!" Jan cackled. "Right now Big Brother Valentine is downstairs talking some sense into that ancient old fuck and soon your big secret trump card will be batting for a better team," he smirked over his shoulder at Seras. "And if he even gives rat's ass about you, your fine piece of ass will be coming too." Seras growled and tightened her hold around his neck.

"Was that really all you had?" Alucard growled standing amidst the bloody splatters of what remained of Luke Valentine. He confessed himself disappointed. Honestly, he was hoping for more of a challenge. "Such a shame I overestimated you. As a vampire you were just a pathetic piece of shit. Now you're nothing but dog shit." Alucard was no comedian, but it wasn't beyond him to make a joke every once in awhile.

"The one upstairs didn't seem like much," he mused, absorbing the blood around him. "But they're having more trouble than I would've imagined." He walked away, thoughts swirling around this so-called vampire "Master."

Then the awful tell-tale gurgling of ghouls sounded from down the hall. Both Seras and Walter stared into the daunting blackness punctuated only by the pinpricks of their glowing purple eyes, and they realized with a sinking feeling that their fallen soldiers had succumbed to the undead.

Jan used the moment's distraction to his advantage and roughly threw Seras off himself. "And now for our next trick, check out door number three!" The ghouls began their slow, lurching approach and Jan made a dash towards the door to the conference room.

Walter threw his wires towards him in a last ditch effort, but even as his arm was cut clean off his body, Jan didn't slow his pace. The vampire threw open the door, surprised to find it unlocked and was overcome with a sick joy that victory was soon at hand, but something made him stop. The Knights of the Round Table sat very composed facing forward, pistols cocked and aimed straight for him. He recognized Sir Integra right away, front and center, with the most infuriating smug look on her face. "You made it," she said, raising her own gun at him. "Congratulations."

"Oh, fuck me." Was all Jan had time for before the Knights unleashed their bullets. Integra was filled with satisfaction watching decimated body fell to ground, but it was short lived as she saw the ghouls that stormed her hallway.

"My men," she breathed. "They turned all my men into ghouls!"

Abigail screamed, startling everyone in the room. She had been so quiet, they had nearly forgotten she was there. The girl was pointing a shaking finger towards Seras who was being bombarded on all sides by the flesh-eating monsters. "Someone has to help her!" The young Hellsing cried. "They're going to kill her!"

"Hush. She can take care of herself," Integra assured, but nothing could have prepared her for what she was about to see. Just when it seemed Seras would be overcome, her baby blue eyes began to glow blood red and, with a ferocity that she had never shown before, began ripping the ghouls to shreds one by one.

Abigail covered her mouth, eyes growing big as saucers. "She- she's a vampire too?" she whispered in horror.

Perhaps it was because Integra had never seen such violence from the usually mild-mannered vampire, or because it happened to be her own agents being torn apart, but something about the scene was unbearable and Integra could not stop herself from running straight into the carnage."Seras!" How she trusted that a blood-frenzied vampire would not attack her, she did not even stop to consider as she threw her arms around the girl. "That's enough! You can stop. Seras, please stop."

And just like a switch being flipped off, red eyes gave way to blue. Seras heaved heavy breaths, looking positively astonished with herself. She looked around and caught Abigail, who had crept out of the conference room into the hall for a better look, staring at her. Shame flooded her as the teenage girl quickly looked away, too scared to even look her in the eye.

Meanwhile, Walter threw a bloodied Jan Valentine against the wall. "It's all over, boy."

"Nice, go and kill me then, dick." Walter was struck by how resigned his tone was.

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you," Walter promised. "Not until after you tell me who put you up to this. Then, I'll put you out of your misery."  
Then Integra strode towards them, gun cocked and ready.

"Whaddup biatch!" Jan hollered condescendingly before the bullets flew through his face.

"We'll have no more of that. I'm pissed off," Integra growled. That was putting it mildly. "Who the hell are you people. What did you hope to accomplish with this freak show of vampire children? Who's responsible for this? I know sure as hell you're not intelligent enough to orchestrate an attack like this on your own."

"Come on bitch, you already know don't you?" Jan coughed, using the wall to help himself to a standing position. "It's the one who made me what I am. Who made the little demon twerplings what they are. The Great Master."

Integra's eyes narrowed, "Explain yourself."

'Not a lot I can say. Just that he's a bigger bad than your Alucard could ever hope to be. And we've got plans for London. Big plans."

"Enough!" barked Integra. "Stop beating around the bush."

"Come on, I know you got our little message," he leered in Abigail's direction and the teenager took a step back. Jan began to cackle. "You humans are so pathetic. Such fucking weaklings. I wish I could be around to watch you grovel at our feet, but oh well. We've all gotta do our part."

"Walter," Integra intoned. At the insinuation, Walter whipped out his wires and wrapped them tightly around Jan's neck.

"Yeah, yeah saw this comin' a mile away," Jan yawned. "Anyway, now that I'm fucked anyway hows about I piss a little wisdom on you dipshits." With his remaining hand he gave them all the middle finger. "Think of tonight as a little teaser for what's to come, a follow up to letter to last night signed with a flourish by Phoenix."

"Finish him off, Walter." Integra said with disgust. Walter nodded and pulled his strings, slicing the pierced cretin's head from his shoulders.

Integra bit her lip. Phoenix. A name, at least she had a name now. Names were concrete. It certainly gave her a lot to think about about. But right now she was running on over twenty-four hours with no sleep and she could scarce bring herself to even think in coherent sentences. She felt nauseous. All around her tiny bodies lay lifeless, and it what purpose? Turning to the rotting corpses that were once her proud soldiers she muttered, "Put them out of their misery, Walter. And clean up this mess."

"You will relay that order, Walter, " said the voice of Sir Islands, stepping towards them from the conference room. He handed a fully-loaded gun to Integra. "The responsibility must fall to their leader. Sir Integra it's your duty."

"No Sir, that's going to far," called Walter.

"This entire situation could have been prevented. Integra, your lack of preparation in an offense. And since this facility falls under you command, the responsibility is yours. The fact that these men died and were reanimated as these corpses is entirely your fault."

"How dare you!" Walter started, but Integra interrupted him.

"Walter!" She shouted, taking the gun dutifully from Sir Islands. "That's enough. I will handle this. You take Abigail away from here. I think she's seen plenty for one day. I will speak with her in the morning."  
Walter looked as if he wanted to protest, but after a moment he gave a bow. "Yes Sir." He stepped over the rubble to Abigail. "Let us go get your wounds redressed, Miss."

Abigail could only nod numbly, overwhelmed by the body count she had seen in just one day. It was more than any normal person should see in a lifetime. She allowed him to wrap a guiding arm around her shoulder and lead her down the opposite hallway, the sound of Integra's gunshots ringing in her ears.


	3. Uncanny Valley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It’s been nearly two years since I last updated, but I am resurrecting this story from the grave because plot-bunnies hit me out of nowhere. Inspiration is fickle like that, I guess. Anyway, enjoy.

_CHAPTER THREE:_

_Uncanny Valley_

 

Simply put, Abigail did not sleep well that night, if she slept at all.  Every time she closed her eyes she saw the walls sprayed with blood and gore, heard the ghost of Integra’s gunfire echoing in her skull.   The sound of a gunshot had been the last thing her father had ever heard. Integra had been the one to pull the trigger. The thought sent wave after wave of chills down her spine. Not even the thick blankets of the luxurious bed she had been deposited in could warm her.

 

But despite her restlessness, Abigail could not bring herself to get out of bed when morning finally came. She was physically, emotionally, and spiritually drained from all the events of the past two days.  She squeezed her eyes tight against the glare of sun streaming through the window. If she tried very, very hard she could pretend she was in her own bedroom back in Chelsea. Posters of her favorite musicians taped to the walls, watching over her like friendly sentinels. She could almost smell her mother’s cooking: sizzling bacon, the sweet smell of pancakes fresh off the skillet. She allowed herself a small smile, before someone rapped rather loudly at the door. She sat up with a start, then relaxed when she remembered she had locked the door before falling asleep. 

 

“Miss Wilson,” Walter’s muffled voice came from behind the door. “I do not wish to disturb you, but I brought you some breakfast. Thought you might be famished after last night’s… _ordeal_.”

Abigail’s stomach growled as if in agreement. She cursed her body for betraying her so. Nevertheless, she remained silent. She was not ready to face any of these people. She was not keen to find out what new manner of trauma they had in store for her today. She froze when after a few moments, she heard Walter jiggle the handle, then exhale sharply.

 

“Miss Wilson,” his toned was all polite indulgence. “It will do you no good to let yourself waste away. It is midafternoon. I know you must be awake. Don’t be foolish. Open the door.”

 

Abigail had no intention of doing any such thing. Instead, she wondered how good her chances were of using her blanket to scale down the side of the mansion and make a break for it. Three stories up, be damned. 

 

She heard Walter sigh followed by a metallic clicking. The next moment the door swung open. Abigail scrambled to her knees, the sheets tangling around her in her haste. Walter carried a tray of steaming hot food in one hand. In the other, he dangled a ring of keys and gave her a challenging look.

 

“My dear, I have been the custodian of this mansion for the better part of my life. You think I don’t have a key to every single lock?”

 

Suddenly Abigail felt very silly for thinking that a mere lock could keep her safe in a place like this. She was deep in the bowels of Hellsing. There was no such thing as safe.

 

“Thought it was worth a shot,” she replied lamely.

 

“And what a valiant effort it was,” he said in that humorous voice of his. “But Integra specifically requested that you be fed and I am loathed to disappoint her.” There was a wicked glint in his eye and suddenly Abigail remembered the killing machine he had turned into the night before. Cold, merciless. He had enjoyed every second of it. Her heart hammered, her tongue was heavy as lead.

 

“I- I don’t think I’m hungry,” her stomach growled again, this time in whiny protest. She admonished her stomach.    _Shut up, you._

 

Walter quirked an eyebrow. “Indeed.” He set the tray down beside her on the bedside table. “You can relax, Miss Wilson. I’m not here to hurt you,” he noted the mistrustful way she eyed the food. “Or poison you for that matter. You’re under Sir Integra’s protection, no one here will dare lay a finger on you.”

 

“I don’t want your protection,” Abigail replied. “I want to go home.”

 

“I’m afraid you and Integra have a great deal to discuss before that can be arranged.” Abigail slumped, crestfallen. Walter had to admit he pitied the girl. She did not ask for any of this. She simply had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Now her fate rested in whatever decision Integra made.  If Sir Hellsing decided Abigail was more trouble than she was worth and better off dead, Walter would have to abide by that decision.  But he wouldn’t think of such ghastly thoughts now. “Let’s have a look at those stitches, shall we?”

 

Reluctantly, Abigail lifted her top just enough to reveal the healing wounds on her abdomen.   She tried not to flinch when his hands touched her skin. “Are you a doctor?” She asked, so that she wouldn’t have to think about what she had seen those hands do the previous night.

 

“My dear, I am a great many things but a doctor is not one of them,” satisfied with the progress, Walter motioned her to lower her shirt. “Though I certainly know my way around a first aid kit. War will teach you a thing or two about tending to injuries.”

 

“You fought in the war?”  

 

Walter paused, eyes misting slightly with memory. “The second world war, to be precise.”  

 

Abigail frowned. “But then, you couldn’t have been any more than a child.”

 

“All men go to war as children, no matter the age. Though they may not realize it at the time.”

 

Her head swam with a host of new questions. She opened her mouth to speak but he raised a quietening hand. “Those are stories for another time.” _If there is another time_. “I’m afraid Sir Integra is anxious to talk to you.”   

 

 

* * *

 

Abigail hadn’t been the only sleepless one in the mansion. Integra hadn’t yet the luxury of even removing her _shoes_ , for God’s sake.  After the hopeless disaster that was last night, too much needed taking care of. Rest was something she could not afford. After the dust had settled, she’d struggled to find a diplomatic way to shoo the Knights onto their respective helicopters and out of her god damned mansion. But they had insisted on splitting hairs over who was to blame for the debacle, how it could have been prevented, and what damages should be paid to make up for the hassle.  Petty politics. When they finally ran out of hot air to puff up their chests with, the deflated knights finally deigned to leave her in peace. Because, ultimately, it was decided that Integra would shoulder the entire responsibility.  _Because why ever fucking not?_

 

Now near 48 hours without sleep, she was still wired. There was so much to do.  Repairs needed to be scheduled, security had to be reconsidered, and the families of the deceased had to be notified. The men she had killed. Though she knew they had been mercy killings, guilt like an iron ball dropped in the pit of her stomach, weighing her down. Ice Queen, they called her. Merciless, cold.  She was proud of her reputation because it had earned her the fear and respect needed to blaze a trail within her male-dominated sphere.  The Roundtable no longer looked at her like a petulant school girl, playing at being a grown-up. In her line of work, sometimes she had to be cruel to be taken seriously. But Integra did not fancy herself a murderer. And last night felt too much like cold-blood for her comfort.  They were ghouls, yes, too far gone to be saved. But it was only because of her failure to keep her own walls secure that they were condemned in the first place. So in one way or another, she had doomed them.  The men who trusted her to make decisions that would keep them safe.

 

The pen she was writing with snapped in her hands. She hadn’t realized how hard she was pressing down. Ink spilled in tiny black rivulets across the letter she was writing. She clenched her jaw. _Those bastard savages._ How dare they come into _her_ house, kill _her_ men, make threats on _her_ life. Whoever this Phoenix was, they would rue the day they were imbecilic enough to cross Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing.

 

“Well, aren’t we a little tense,” came that familiar disembodied baritone rumble.

 

Integra closed eyes and silently fumed. “I am nowhere near being in the mood, Alucard.”

 

His voice was a whisper against her ear. She could almost feel his smile. “But that’s what makes it oh-so much _fun_.”

 

She lashed out, but hit nothing but air.  The room was totally empty.  “Show yourself, _servant,”_ she snarled. “Or get out. I am entirely too busy to play games.”

 

A moment later Alucard materialized in front of her desk. That toothy grin stretching for miles. “You really should get some sleep, Master. You get cranky when you’re tired.”

 

Integra eased herself back into her chair and set to work cleaning the inky mess on her desk. She heaved a sigh. “And when I ask you for advice, perhaps I will take up your suggestions.  To what do I owe the pleasure, Alucard?”

 

 “Just wanted to compliment you on a fine night’s work.”

 

“I will put a bullet in your head, vampire.”

 

He crossed his arms, “I am not mocking you. Not many would have the honor, or the balls, to do what you did.”

 

She stilled. “So you heard.”

 

“I saw.”

 

Regarding him coolly, she said, “how long were you there, hiding in the shadows?”

 

“Long enough.”

 

“And you didn’t think to intervene?”

 

Alucard shrugged dismissively. “You didn’t give the order.” She glowered at him. His grin grew impossibly wider.  “And I would never miss the chance to watch you take a life. Or a dozen.”

 

With an angry cry, she grabbed her gun from the desk and fired three shots straight through his chest.  It was futile, just as she knew it would be. The holes stitched themselves back together within moments. His chuckle was a dark ripple she felt in her bones.  Her shoulders shook with furious, ragged breath, and she cursed herself for letting him get to her.  He loved taunting her in moments like these. He had a sick fascination with her killing---well, anything. As a girl even killing a spider would elicit the strangest questions from him.  He always wanted to know why she did it. How it made her feel. Was it fear? Hatred? Disgust?  She saw that same wicked spark of curiosity in his eyes now. In this case, she had a respectable answer to those questions. _Duty._ Duty was the “why” of it. But how she felt?

 

_Ashamed._

“Invigorated,” he purred, planting his hands on the desk and leering down at her. She stood at her full height and met his gaze unflinchingly.  “You feel invigorated.  You’re on a high and you feel like you could run a marathon. That’s why you haven’t slept. You’re not ashamed, Integra. You’re _afraid._ ”

 

The look in her eyes would have sent any ordinary person to an early grave, but Alucard’s infuriating smile never faltered. Before she could threaten to trap him back in the basement, a knock came at the door. She closed her eyes and exhaled sharply through her nose.

 

_I had nearly forgotten._ In all the commotion, she had barely spared Abigail Wilson a second thought since sending for her early this morning. _One more monkey wrench thrown into the fray._ She would have to reprioritize. After all, Abigail was still a link in this whole Phoenix fiasco and, not to mention, her long lost cousin. Integra had questions for the girl. 

 

She gave Alucard a warning look which promised she would deal with him later. “Come in, Walter.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Abigail could not help but feel she was being marched to the gallows. She was about to face to the woman who had killed her father. Fear and anger roiled together in her stomach and she felt utterly helpless which only frustrated her further. She could not hope to outrun Walter. Even if she could, she doubted she would find her way out of the mansion before being dragged back. She had no choice but to do this.

 

Then three loud explosions, which sounded suspiciously like gunshots, echoed from the direction they were heading in.  Abigail shot a dubious look at Walter. 

 

“Ah-nothing to worry about, my dear,” he waved a dismissive hand. But from the furrow in his brow even Abigail could tell even he was flummoxed. When they finally arrived at a giant oak door, he gave her his most assuring grin. “Er- perhaps I should go in first, yes? Stand back a couple paces, there’s a good girl.” Then he knocked at the door.

 

“Come in, Walter,” a cold female voice sounded from within. Walter carefully opened the door.

 

“Sir, I brought you Miss Wilson as you requested,” then he noticed Alucard’s proximity to Integra and the three bullet holes riddling the walls. The room was buzzing with intensity.  “Oh my, I do hope we are not interrupting something.”

Abigail had never seen Alucard before, but she could tell right away there was something _off_ about him. The uncanny valley of his face elicited revulsion and awe in the same manner of the vampires she had previously encountered.  Unlike the sweet-faced girl she met the night before, this one seemed a much closer representation to the textbook vampire. His eyes found hers instantly and her heart stopped. In the red swirls of his irises she saw death. Quickly, she dropped her gaze to the floor.

 

 

Integra sat back down in her desk, creating distance between herself and Alucard. “Not at all,” she replied flatly.  She gestured for them to come closer. When Abigail came into the room, Integra chanced a glance at Alucard to gauge his reaction. His lips were twisted in a dangerous curve that she didn’t like. Perhaps this was why he had bothered to come torment Integra. So he would _just happen_ to be in the room for this particular meeting. She would have preferred him not to be here to complicate things further, but it couldn’t be helped now.

 

She turned her attention to Abigail. The girl was pale with fright, though she tried hard to hide it behind a sad excuse for a poker face.  Her deep set brown eyes were much too large for deception. Chestnut hair was still mussed from sleep and she wore the night clothes they had borrowed from Seras. They were almost comically too big for her. The twigs of her shoulders and clavicle jutted out from beneath the fabric and to Integra she looked insultingly fragile.  No doubt her vampire longed to snap her in half. And as memory of her uncle flashed in her mind, for a moment Integra was tempted to let him.

 

A few moments of suspended silence as the two scrutinized each other. Surprisingly, Abigail spoke first. “Are you going to kill me like you killed my father?” From beside her, Walter visibly stiffened.

 

_Cutting right to the chase, then._

Integra steepled her fingers and called upon God to grant her patience. “I have a feeling you have been grossly misinformed about that particular incident.”

 

“So you didn’t kill him?

 

“Oh, I put a bullet straight through that sorry son of a bitch’s lying, traitorous face,” Integra smirked as Abigail’s face twisted in rage. Calmly, Integra opened the top desk drawer and removed her silver box of cigars. She took her time choosing one and stuck it between her teeth. “Is that what you want to hear, girl?”  Beside her, Alucard looked positively _ecstatic._

 

“You’re a monster,” a hoarse whisper was all Abigail could muster through her anger. “Do you have any idea what his death did to my mother? What it to _me?_ ” She thought of distant summer holidays spent with her family on the beaches of Italy. Her father crouching down with her over the tide pools, pointing out the sea urchins and star fish. She thought of the way he danced with her mother in their living room, listening to Frank Sinatra. How she would barrel between them because she felt left out and how he would pick her up and swing with her until she was reduced to a fit of dizzy giggling. “He was a good man!” She shouted.

 

A stifled cackle began in Alucard’s throat. It was quiet at first and then steadily grew in volume, lips wrung in a half-crazed leer.  Finally, he threw his head back in laughter that shook his entire body. Abigail’s blood ran cold at that laugh. They all waited several long moments before he calmed down enough to say, “Your father was the lowest of the low. A piece of scum too vile for even the crows to pick at. Trust me, my master did the world a favor—yourself included—by removing him from this earth. You should be thanking her.”

 

This creature terrified Abigail, but her anger outweighed her fear. “Don’t insult me. I know what really happened.” Her tongue was sandpaper in her mouth. She swallowed hard. “Arthur _hated_ my father. On his death bed, Arthur instructed his daughter to kill my father,” she leveled her gaze at Integra, who stared back impassively. “Because he couldn’t stand the thought of his brother succeeding him. What kind of monster does that to his own brother? What kind of child does that to her own uncle?”

 

An awkward silence hung over the room for several moments before it was interrupted by the click of Integra’s lighter. She held the flame to the cigar, inhaled deeply, and blew think curls of smoke into the air. “Like I said, grossly misinformed. I am afraid it was quite the other way around. My father left the organization to _me_. I can show you his original will if you would like. Your father was driven mad with jealousy and greed. No sooner was my father pronounced dead did your uncle conspire to have me killed.”

 

“Liar.” 

 

Integra ignored her. “He hunted me down. Chased me in my own home and I ran for my life. Yes, I shot him, but only because he would have shot me first.”

 

“No,” Abigail breathed.

 

“Yes. So really, the question you should be asking yourself is what kind of man does something like that to an innocent child? His own niece, no less?” 

 

“No,” Abigail repeated, shaking her head.  “I don’t accept that. I _can’t_ believe that.”

 

Integra took another drag from her cigar. “That is the beauty of truth. Whether you believe it or not is inconsequential.”  This conversation was wearing her thin, but they had other issues still to discuss. “But  let’s turn our attention from the tedium of family matters, shall we? I want to talk about what happened to you the other night.”

 

Abigail shifted uncomfortably. “What do you want to know?”

 

“Everything.” The smallest detail could make a huge difference. “Describe the attack, start from the beginning.”

 

Taking a deep breath, Abigail told the tale. Her voice cracked when she described how the foul mouths of the ghouls had closed around Ryan’s throat. How his terrified scream had filled the forest. The echoing laughter of the vampire inside her head as she ran to rescue her girls only to find them vanished from their tents. The scuffle in the convenience store. The hot pain of the blade tip tearing at her stomach.

 

“The vampire,” Integra interrupted her, heedless of the sweat that had broken out on Abigail’s brow. “Describe him. What was he like?”

 

Abigail considered it for a moment. “He was…like _him.”_ She nodded to Alucard, purposefully avoiding his eyes. “I mean they look nothing alike. He was shorter, stockier. Ruddy brown hair. Horrible amber eyes. But he had the same…aura.” Like they had been spun from the same thread. Two sides of one coin.  It was difficult to describe, the elusive feeling she had. She was new to the idea of vampires, but it had been obvious to her that the one she had seen last night—Jan Valentine-- had been of a…lesser ilk.  Not just because he was crude and lascivious. He looked and felt different, more like the girl—Seras. The biggest difference was in their skin. Jan and Seras, although white as snow, couldn’t hold a candle to the flawless, immovable alabaster of the vampire who had attacked her two nights ago. The one who stood before her now had flesh that was nearly identical.  Not to mention the sheer power she felt radiating from him. She remembered feeling something similar from her attacker.

 

“A vampire’s flesh is but one insight to their age,” Alucard drawled.   Abigail’s eyes narrowed. “The gift of mind reading is another,” he continued with a smirk. Abigail looked uncomfortable. “The vampire you saw sounds like he could very well be ancient.”  _My master is more powerful than you are._ That is what Luke Valentine had told him. Could it be true?

 

“But he didn’t tell you his name?” Integra asked pointedly. Abigail shook her head. “Did he say anything else?” The girl bit her lip and looked away. “What else did he say?” She repeated more loudly.

 

The fire that came into her eyes told the story of a girl who had grown up fatherless. Abigail put all the chagrin and resentment she felt towards Integra into that look. “He said, ‘tell that Hellsing bitch her days are numbered.’”

 

“I see,” Integra snuffed out her cigar with a twist of her wrist. The threat might have referred to last night’s attack. But then again, it might have not. She would have to tread a little more cautiously.  Regardless, if there was no more intel to be gathered from the incident, she had no further use for the girl. “Then that’s that.”

 

“You didn’t answer my first question.”

 

Integra quirked a brow.  “Walter, would you be so kind as to escort Miss Wilson back to her home in Chelsea? I think she’s suffered enough.”

 

Abigail was shocked and, rather stupidly, asked, “just like that?”

 

Integra released an exasperated sigh. “Just like that,” she acquiesced. “Despite what you may think, I do not delight in the murder of innocents. I am not a heathen.”

 

Abigail couldn’t think of anything to say as Walter gestured for her to follow him out the door. Just as she turned to leave, however, she heard Integra call after her. “But I think it goes without saying that as far as your mother and anyone else is concerned, these last few days never happened. You are not to breathe a word of this place and what we do here to another living soul. I take the secrecy of my organization very seriously.” Abigail could imagine the smile on Integra’s lips. “And you don’t want to give Alucard here anymore reasons to skin you alive.”

The baritone chuckle of the vampire followed her out of the room and it was all she could do not to run full speed down the hall.

 

 

* * *

 

Abigail sat in the back of the car while Walter drove. They had given her another set of Seras’ clothes. A casual yellow dress this time. It was three sizes two big, giving it the overall effect of a strategically cut blanket. She was thankful the simple black flats fit snugly on her feet so that at least hadn’t needed to waddle awkwardly out the front doors of Hellsing.

  They rode in silence for most the trip, which suited Abigail just fine.  When they pulled into town, she was content to look out the window and appreciate how _normal_ everything was. People sitting in front of cafés having a latte with a friend, children clutching at their mothers’ skirts as they were pulled from one store to another. One man eating a donut, walking his dog.  All these people were blissfully unaware of the danger that threatened them in the shadows. And they would never have any idea. The thought disturbed her, but she was also insanely envious. How could she go back to her old life knowing what she did now? It wasn’t fair she had to carry the burden of this secret. She wondered if her mother had known the truth about Hellsing all these years and never told her.

 

Finally, they pulled in front of her house. It looked so much more polite and unassuming than she remembered it being before leaving for the camping trip nearly a week ago.  She stared at it for several moments, studying the details, unable to bring herself to move.

 

Eventually Walter spoke, “something wrong, Miss Wilson?”

 

She kept her eyes trained on her house. “You know I used to think Hellsing was a parliamentary law firm?” She gave a humorless laugh. “My mother told me Hellsing advised the crown behind the scenes. Very secret, very dangerous. She said my father had been this big-time lawyer next in line to take over the practice right after my uncle. A law firm! Can you believe that?” Finally, she looked at Walter—eyes big and imploring, lost.

 

“I am sure your mother wanted nothing but the best for you,” Walter replied. They were the only words of encouragement he could offer. Maybe Richard had fed his wife those lies and the woman was never the wiser. Or perhaps she knew the truth and wanted desperately to save her daughter from the knowledge. For the sake of Hellsing’s security, Walter hoped it was former. Either way, Abigail would never find out. Not unless she was wanted to break her promise of confidentially to Integra with unseemly consequences.   

 

“So what-- I just get of out the car and never look back? I just move on?”  The questions sounded as if she were asking Walter _how_ specifically she was supposed to do these things.

 

“I suppose that’s about the size of it,” his face was grim.

 

“I guess this is good bye, then. I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure.” She took a steadying breath, pushed open the door, and did not look back.

 

“Likewise,” he murmured after her retreating form. _Enjoy the rest of your life, Abigail Hellsing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Kinda short, not a lot of action. I promise the next chapter will make up for it.


End file.
